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Chapter Text

Zoro’s never been one to ask for help , let alone for something so personal. He once went an entire post-op without painkillers because he just didn’t care to ask anyone to pick them up for him. 

(To say both Sanji and Chopper had been livid would be an understatement)

Even with the proverbial cat out of the bag, Zoro keeps to himself. 

Implying that he’s been avoiding Nami since the party would be inaccurate. He just happens to be busy with school for the time being, and his schedule looks like it’ll clear up right around the time that Nami stops fucking nagging him. 

But when he comes home a few weeks later to see Nami comfortably eating dinner on the couch with Miso, he knows that he can’t avoid her any longer. “You’re late.” She chides.

Dropping his coat onto a hanger and kicking off his boots, he shoots Nami with a sharp look. “How the fuck did you get into my home?”

She doesn’t glance away from the TV as she shovels a scoop of pad thai into her mouth. “Sanji let me in on his way out. There’s dinner in the fridge, by the way. Still warm.” 

He grunts but makes his way to the kitchen anyway. “What made you think it was okay to just… show up without any notice?” Zoro packs a bowl full of noodles, then drizzles some peanut sauce on top.

He hears Nami exhale in what can only be a scoff. “Well, Mr. Can’t-Be-In-A-Room-With-Nami-Disease, you were avoiding me and I had some questions.” He can see her peeking over the back of the couch as he makes his way back. “Plus, I did give notice. Just not to you. I told Sanji I wanted to leech off your geospatial data notes from last year.”

Zoro rolls his eyes as he sits down, letting Miso jump up to his shoulders and drape herself around his neck. He ignores Nami’s expectant gaze in favour of whatever is playing on the screen. If she wants to have this conversation, then Zoro sure as hell isn’t going to start it himself.

It’s just his luck that a commercial break starts almost immediately. With a pleased clap, Nami settles herself to face Zoro. “So, are you going to fill me in, or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”

“It’s none of your business.” He mutters around a mouthful of noodles.

Nami digs her nails into Zoro’s thigh, making him flinch. “Considering I’ve been listening to you bitch and complain about your pathetic little crush on Sanji for years only to find out: 1, he is gay; and 2, by your non-reaction, you already knew? It absolutely is my business!”

The red head always has a way of getting under his skin faster than anybody he’s ever known. It’s not easy to bite back an irritated groan. “The fuck do you even want to know, anyway? There’s nothing I can tell you. Ask Curly yourself.”

The noise Nami lets out is frustrated as she curls her nails into her palms. “I’ll have you know, while you were avoiding me like the plague, I did ask Sanji, and he talked. It made my fucking day how excited he was and how liberated he felt. He said that you were there to help him through a lot of it.” She grabs the remote from the coffee table, switches the TV off, and looks him dead in the eyes. “I need to know how you’ve managed to moon over this guy for forever, and when you finally find out you have a chance, you don’t take it!”

By the end of her tirade, she seems to lose some steam. Both her eyes and tone soften. “What happened, Zoro?”

It’s at this point that Zoro regrets not getting a beer. Maybe something stronger, like vodka. Or turpentine. He doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him, so he turns away, looking at his reflection in the black screen. “It’s going to sound stupid.” he murmurs, taking another chopstick-full of noodles.

Nami shoulders drop. “Zoro, please. Just–” She cuts herself off with a sigh and doesn’t say more.

He hates this type of stuff. Helping others with their problems may not be his favourite thing in the world, but talking about his own feelings is so much worse. He looks his reflection in the eyes. “I don't want him to feel, like, obligated to go out with me just because we’re friends or because I was there for him when he was figuring himself out.”

The girl freezes, then lets herself sink into the cushion with an exacerbated groan. “You’re right. That is stupid.” Before he can protest, Nami speaks over him. “Zoro, you’re an idiot! How long have you had that cockamamie idea floating around in your noggin?” 

“Uhhh.” Since the beginning hangs in the air between them, and Nami catches it with an iron fist.

She tucks her feet under herself and leans her head on her arm that’s laying on the top of the couch. She takes a deep breath. “I get that you don't want to influence Sanji, but he’s a grown ass man who can make his own decisions. You already know how devastated he’d be if he found out he was being treated with kid-gloves.”

He hates that she makes good points. It irritates him further that he doesn’t have much of a rebuttal. She just doesn’t get it.

“I’ve never done this before, okay?! I’ve been in love with him almost since I met him, and I don’t want to fucking abuse my position now that I gained his trust on something so damn personal.” The cat on his neck keeps him still, but the buzz of embarrassment courses through him all the same. He wants to jump out of his skin and hide under a bed, never to be seen again. 

“Not to mention that this is the best our relationship has ever been.” He flexes his wrists back in aggravation, feeling the strain in his forearms briefly before relaxing. Zoro lets his shoulders fall in defeat. “It’s been really good recently. If this is all I get, then that’s fine. I just like spending time with him and I don’t want to get rejected, make things awkward and ruin this.”

Nami sets her fork down as gently as she can in all her impatience. “Why the hell would he turn you down? How could that possibly be your first thought?”

Not that he’d ever tell her, but his first thought came in the imagined picture of him and Sanji sitting thigh to thigh on their couch, wearing each other’s clothes and watching TV with Miso. His second thought, one of utter rejection, came soon after, a far more realistic prediction.

He can still hear imaginary-Sanji saying you’re a good guy, but I think we want different things , and I really value our friendship , and you have to be stupid to think I’d settle for you . Okay, maybe the last one is exaggerated, but he’d find his own Sanji-way of getting the point across, so gently that it wouldn’t hurt as much as it should.

“He’s leaving for Paris next September anyway, there’s no point in starting something now.” It’s a weak excuse. Zoro knows it, and so does Nami, who huffs for the nth time. 

“You have no idea whether he’s going to get in! There’s just as much of a chance that he stays here for culinary school.”

Something burns in Zoro’s chest. How could she even question whether Sanji would get into his dream school? “If Cordon Bleu comes knocking with an acceptance letter, which they will , he’s going. That’s too big of a fucking opportunity to pass up because of me.”

In lieu of a response, Nami curls herself into the couch and watches Zoro with a sad look. He lets them sit in silence, analyzing the hem of his shirt.

What does Nami know anyway? He reasons with himself. She has no idea how many revisions Sanji made to his applications, how many times he rewrote his signature to look perfect, how many reference letters he sorted through to find the best two to submit. Zoro does. Zoro was the one to help read his personal statements, filter reference letters, and give him a pat on the back when he clicked submit .

Sanji is meant for culinary arts — he only went to university because his dad forced him to get a degree to fall back on, otherwise he would have studied in France and graduated two years ago.

Setting her empty plate on the coffee table, Nami stands and brushes off her pants. “Whatever. I’ve got a night class, so I’ve got to go. But Zoro,” she takes hold of his cheeks to make him look at her, “if you aren’t going to try to pursue him, then you have to finally start moving on. It’s not healthy, at this point.” She drops his face and steps away. “ That’s what’ll ruin your friendship. Not asking him out and chancing rejection.” 

As she slips on her winter gear next to the door, she pauses. “Think about it. I think you guys could be really good for each other. You just need to get over yourself.”

The door closes behind her, and Zoro can’t help but sink all his weight into the couch. He watches his reflection as he eats the rest of his dinner in silence.

———

Over the next few weeks, Zoro takes Nami’s advice and thinks about it. A lot. 

But just because he thinks about it doesn’t mean he does anything.

After the new year, Sanji continues his full-stop on dating in general. When Usopp asks him about it one afternoon, Sanji brushes him off politely, saying that he’s feeling good and would rather not force anything, so they leave it alone. 

With his co-op with Iva, school and his restaurant participating in a winter food festival, he’s been busy. 

Despite that, Sanji makes an effort to spend more time with the group as a whole, studying with them at the library more often and planning group dinners. He’s even started waiting for Zoro to come home from late afternoon classes to eat dinner with him, instead of just leaving the leftovers in the fridge. 

Zoro’s not sure what changed, or if anything changed at all, but he won’t complain about warm dinners and paid-for coffees. 

Zoro can hear Sanji talking through the door as he slips the key into the lock. Tossing his coat onto the rack, Zoro leans in to take a peek into the kitchen. The noise prompts Miso to come out of hiding. 

As he crouches down to greet the cat, he sees that Sanji has four pots on the stove, a towel on his right shoulder, and his cellphone pressed between his ear on the other. “ ! !”

Fiddling with the pans in his hands, Sanji turns to Zoro, nods his head in greeting, mouthing Zeff , before turning back to his conversation. “Like, . Ok, fine, –”

Cut off by his father again, he turns around again to roll his eyes dramatically at Zoro. 

He mimes at Zoro, rotating an arm in a circular motion near his face, then pointing behind him with a thumb. Did you eat already? With a shake of his head in the negative, Zoro approaches the stove.

The pots are filled with steamed vegetables, plain rice, and some kind of orange-y brown sauce that smells strongly of spices. Zoro takes a deep inhale over the sauce pot and lets out a satisfied breath. Sanji dips a wooden spoon into the pot, then lifts it to Zoro’s lips. “ . We’re still good for reading week, right?”

It takes all his strength for Zoro not to moan at the flavour. He takes advantage of Sanji’s distracted state and snatches the spoon out of his hand, shoving the entire thing into his mouth. With an alarmed look, the cook shoves a knee into the back of Zoro’s, snaking the utensil back and and throwing it into the sink. “We’ll be there February 10 to 15. Yes, he’s still– I don’t need to ask him, I know he’s–”

Sanji grabs at the collar of Zoro’s shirt, pulling him into his side and shoving his phone in Zoro’s face. “Please confirm your reading week plans, ‘cuz my father refuses to believe me .”

He leans toward the microphone hesitantly. Despite hearing about him for years, Zoro’s never actually talked to Zeff, let alone met him. That’s the reason he’s visiting in the first place. Zeff has been bugging Sanji to meet Zoro since they moved in together but exams and work schedules never allowed for it. 

“I will be coming with Curly to Montreal for reading week.”

Neither of them hear anything but a grunt. “ .” Zoro has no idea what the man just said aside from eggplant , but they’re met with the dial tone and Sanji’s face is red with what Zoro can only assume is anger.

He turns off the stove top. “I’m gonna go take a shower, then we’ll eat. There’s naan warming in the oven, so keep an eye on it.” Sanji doesn’t spare him another glance as he pads off to the bathroom.

———

Leaving Miso at Perona’s the Monday they leave is more painful than Zoro expected. He places all her things down under the watchful eye of the cat. Miso waves her tail lazily as she stares him down when he fills her water bowl. 

Zoro doesn’t know how she knows they’re leaving, but she’s been meowing unhappily the entire time. Sanji’s only a few feet away, giving Perona the rundown of Miso’s feeding schedule and diet.

When he feels teeth sink into his ankle, Zoro jumps. “Ouch! What the fuck, Miso?” Sanji comes in a second later, swooping the cat up into his arms, littering her with kisses all over. “Leave our baby alone, she’s just sad to see us go, aren’t you?”

Zoro just rolls his eyes, but as they drive away from Perona’s place, he sees Miso watching them from the window and realizes he’s sad to leave her. He knows she’s in good hands and adores Perona. There’s nothing to worry about. He still doesn’t appreciate the bite, though.

They’re dragging their suitcases through Union Station. Sanji has a hand at Zoro’s elbow, making sure he doesn't wander off . Zoro’s pretty sure he almost never gets lost, but the station is enough of a nightmare under all the construction that he doesn’t scoff at the gesture.

Sanji sits them down at a bench on the platform and hands Zoro a small glossy paper. “Here’s the train ticket, don’t lose it in the next 2 minutes, or I’m making you walk there.”

Now, Zoro can admit that he’s not Nami when it comes to directions, but he remembers enough to know that this particular train doesn’t go to the airport. He takes the ticket, turning it over in his hand. “Are we not flying there?”

Sanji shoots him an incredulous look, nose scrunching. “Not unless you’re willing to drop 800 each, round-trip. That’s such a waste of money. The train’s not so bad, anyway. I’ve taken it every time.”

He tilts his head in confusion. “Didn’t you fly that one time in second year? I picked you up from the airport.” 

The comment must ring a bell because Sanji’s face goes blank for a moment. “Wait, Marimo… have I never told you that Zeff’s not my dad by blood?”

That’s definitely news to Zoro — he’s only ever heard about Zeff, almost always by explicit name. He shakes his head in the negative as the train pulls in. 

“Huh…” Sanji cocks his head, surprised, but doesn’t say more.

Once they take their seats and their tickets are checked, Sanji clears his throat. “I moved in with Zeff from Paris when I was eight. He’s actually my mum’s cousin on the Dutch side of her family — from what I heard, they were really close growing up before my grandparents moved to France for work.”

As the train jerks to a start, it dawns on Zoro just how long they’re going to be stuck here. He may as well ask. “Why’d you leave France?”

Sanji sighs, but can’t distract himself with the window without looking directly at Zoro. Smaller bladder gets the aisle seat , he’d argued. “You already know my mum died when I was young, but my biological father was a real piece of work — the homophobia and stuff is from him, not Zeff. He’s a big name in the genetic engineering sphere, so growing up, my siblings and I had a lot of pressure to fill those shoes. Take over his companies and projects.”

In all the years that he’s known Sanji, Zoro’s never heard of his siblings before. 

Sanji crosses his legs, only to uncross them a moment later. “My older sister was already somewhat under that pressure, but my brothers and I got it harder. We had to be good at everything —sports, math, science— and there was no room for anything that my biological father deemed as frivolous.”

Sanji runs a hand through his bangs a few times. “My brothers were really good at the hard sciences, but unfortunately for him, the frivolous stuff was all the shit I liked. I loved looking at animals and sitting in the aquarium for hours. He really hated that I loved cooking. It was a ‘woman’s job’.” He rolls his eyes. “My brothers were pretty fucked up. I don’t know if it was internalized trauma or whatever, but whatever my father did made them almost emotionless robots. I dunno why I didn’t react the same, if I was too soft or something, but I got bullied pretty mercilessly because of it, so when I saw an opening, I left.”

Sanji’s voice doesn’t waver, but his eyes look sad, welling up just a bit. Zoro shakes his head, “Definitely not too soft. You’re like one of the toughest people I know. Probably only under Kuina.”

Something about the comment makes Sanji smirk. “Ugh, I’d love to be under Kuina.”

“Oh gross” grouses Zoro, lifting a hand to swat at Sanji’s shoulder. He’s unsuccessful, though, as the limb is caught in midair. “Gay or not, you have to admit that she’s a gorgeous girl!”

Zoro scrunches his nose, sticking out his tongue in disgust.

Sanji lets out a laugh before they sit in silence. Zoro pulls out his laptop and a pair of earbuds, offering one to Sanji, who takes it. Zoro presses play on whatever show was last pulled up on his browser.

It’s nearly four hours later, after Zoro’s already woken up from a nap, that Sanji brings up his family again.

“You know, now that I think about it, when I was summoned home that one Christmas, I thought I saw a bit of the façade breaking in Yonji. There was something that was a little more human about him, compared to Ichiji or Niji. I think he might be faking it in front of them, to be honest.”

Zoro pauses to look at Sanji, perplexed. “Your brothers’ names are Ichiji, Niji and Yonji?” Sanji returns his look with a squint. “Yeah. We’re quadruplets.”

He can’t help but let out a sad laugh, despite how unfortunate what he’s about to say is. “Ichi, ni, san, yon are literally one, two, three, four in Japanese.” 

Sanji halts all his movement, letting the words wash over him, before letting out a guffaw. “Holy shit, that’s so fucked, it’s actually kinda funny.”

———

When Zoro actually meets Zeff, it’s nearly midnight after a five-hour train ride, and he’s practically asleep on his feet. Sanji ushered them into an Uber, convinced that his father would be long asleep by then. As they arrive, the house is dark, with only the reflection of a TV on the windows.

Unlocking the door quietly, Sanji pokes his head in, then slinks through the entryway, kicking off his boots as he goes, leaving Zoro at the door with their bags. 

In his socks, Sanji can be lethally silent. He manoeuvres around the wooden planks, avoiding certain spots as he approaches the armchair, occupied by a sleeping man who must be Zeff. Sanji makes it about a meter and a half before he hears a scoff. “ Eggplant.”

His shoulders drop in defeat. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? , .” He nags, shrugging off his jacket.

He’s met with a dismissive grumble as Zeff gets up to greet Sanji properly. In the meantime, Zoro doesn’t know what to do with himself and just takes in his surroundings. 

The house is small and quaint, full of old wooden details. Zoro can tell by the light fixtures that the interior had been redone at some point, with a more modern design than the early 19th century exterior would suggest. Toward the living room, catches sight of a brick fireplace, and an accent wall of brick in the kitchen.

The floors are the only things that look really old, though they’ve obviously been taken care of, looking like they’ve been refinished recently. There are picture frames all over the walls too, though it’s too dark to see what any of them are.

Although the interior is well-kept, he can’t help but wish he’d brought his spirit level with him, as one side of the porch felt slightly tilted. And one of the metal beams on the railing looked like it was poorly fused to the stone outside.

Zoro’s snapped out of his reverie when he senses Zeff approach him. The man is taller than he expected, standing taller than Sanji by a little bit, and has a long braided moustache. The man reaches out a hand, which Zoro takes eagerly. He feels tongue-tied as he stumbles through an introduction. “Erm, .”

He knows he must have butchered something, because he sees Sanji stifle a laugh over Zeff’s shoulder. The man cracks a smirk, turning his head slightly in his son’s direction, but keeps his eyes trained on Zoro. “,” he muses before facing him head on again, “I’m fluent in English, kid.”

Caught between wanting to shoot Sanji a murderous look, or let out a sigh of relief, he does both.

Zeff claps him on the shoulder, hulling one of Sanji’s bags onto his own. “You look dead on your feet, boy. I’ll show you where the guest room is.”

Zoro doesn’t remember much after that. He knows Sanji led him by the wrist into the room, but once the door closed, leaving him alone, he’s pretty sure he fell face-first into the pillows, and it was lights out.

———

The next morning, Zoro wakes up to the smell of something baking in the oven. As he follows the scent down the stairs, he hears the two men speaking in hushed voices. He knows they’re speaking French, but he’s far too groggy to even begin to comprehend it.

Scratching his stomach with a yawn, Zoro takes a seat next to Sanji at the small table in the corner of the kitchen. The table is set with a plate full of pieces of cheese, some sort of jam, fresh-cut fruits, and a small slab of butter.

The orange hue of the sun bouncing off the snow outside makes it feel like it’s too early to be conscious, though a look at the clock tells him it’s already past 9. Zoro closes his eyes again, leaning back against the wooden chair, breathing in the warmth of the kitchen.

A hand comes to sit atop his hair gently, scratching at it like he’s a cat. “Poor Mossy’s pooped, aren’t you?” He returns Sanji’s light-hearted taunt with a grunt. 

The gruffness of Zeff’s voice is what makes him crack open an eye. “Oi, Cabbage, do you want a coffee or espresso or somethin’? We got juice too, if that’s too strong.”

Zoro wipes a hand over his face, then swats Sanji’s away. “Espresso, please. Just milk, though. No sugar.”

A snicker passes through Zeff’s lips. “Good man.” He says, before the machine starts to rev up. 

“Lactose-free, papa!” Sanji chimes in once the noise settles down. A minute later, a small coffee cup is placed in front of him. He mumbles a quiet thanks, though Zeff’s already turned around again to pull out whatever’s in the oven.

From what Zoro can see, the man is slicing a banana bread looking loaf. Sanji leans into his space, eyeing the bread. “It’s just ontbijtkoek . It’s some Dutch rye bread with cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger. Not super sweet, don’t worry.”

As Zeff sets down the ontbijtkoek , and Sanji doesn’t waste a second, reaching for the food, slathering the bread in jam and butter. Zoro follows suit, groaning in delight at the flavours. “This is really good.”

Zeff grumbles as he lowers himself into the chair. “I’d hope so. I’d be a poor excuse of a Dutchman and a chef if I couldn’t make a good ontbijtkoek .”

“He’s from the Netherlands,” Sanji fills in as Zoro nods along.

He turns to Zeff, curious. “Did you learn French from just moving here, then?” 

The chef lets out an amused huff. “I always lived in the Anglo side of town, so I just knew the very basics for most of my time here. I only learned the language because this brat,” he scruffs Sanji’s ear, “didn’t speak a lick of English.”

Sanji ducks away. “That’s why my French is kind of wacky. It’s half elementary education from France, half colloquial Quebecois, and half whatever Zeff picked up.”

Zoro shoots him a funny look. “That’s an extra half.” He receives an irritated one in return. “Okay, well, I didn’t go to uni for math, so fuck off. You know what I mean.”

Zoro shakes his head and continues to eat. He’s halfway through his meal when Zeff speaks up. “Alright, Cabbage, you’ve lived with my son for three years and I barely know anything about you. Gimme the run-down.”

He freezes. He always hates when people ask him about himself. His life hasn’t been particularly interesting. “Uhm, I was born in Japan, but I don't remember anything from there, ‘cuz I was put in the system almost immediately. From what my dad says, my sister was begging for a sibling, and he was on a sabbatical from work, so he chose to consult one of those international adoption agencies.”

Zoro plops the last strawberry into his mouth. “My dad put me in Kendo when I was pretty young — said he wanted to keep me ‘connected to my heritage’, or something. I’m pretty sure it was just a daycare replacement run by an acquaintance of his,” he turns to Sanji to clarify, “Kuina’s dad”. 

“I ended up loving the sport and got really close with my sensei’s daughter, so I spent pretty much my whole childhood in the dojo, training and competing. ‘Spent so long there that I picked up Japanese.” He looks at Zeff again, scratching the back of his neck. “Is-is that a good enough summary?”

Zeff nods. “From what I understand, you’re studying architectural engineering?”

He hums in response, handing Sanji his plate as he clears the table. “Yeah. I’m good with numbers and always liked building things with blocks and cards as a kid. I guess it stuck.”

Another curt nod and the conversation seems to be over, as Zeff gets up to wash the dishes.

———

Over the course of the next few days, they spend a lot of time with Zeff. Although the restaurant is closed Tuesdays, Sanji insists that he help out for prep during the rest of the week, so on Wednesday, Zoro gets the full tour of the Baratie. He enjoys it far more than he expected, fascinated by all the architectural intricacies and the designs carved into the wood. Although after the first hour of just walking around, he feels an itch of uselessness and opts to help out with the dishes. He also gets to meet Patty and Carne, who immediately burst into tears when they see Sanji walk through the doors.

After prep, Zoro’s treated to lunch made by the Baratie staff before opening, which is greatly appreciated. He hates to admit that he prefers most of Sanji’s dishes, though Zeff makes a killer seafood rice and Zoro makes sure to compliment it. 

While Zeff’s at work, and Sanji inevitably gets booted from the kitchen, he takes Zoro on a tour of the city, with a new area each day. They visit his old schools, favourite local bakeries, where he broke his ankle in eighth grade, the field his soccer team used, the now-closed building that hosted a culinary summer camp when he was nine.

There’s something very endearing about the excitement Sanji has for showing Zoro around the places he used to call home. And still does, to a certain extent. There’s a buzzing energy as he drags Zoro from bus to bus, market to market, tourist trap to tourist trap.

He really enjoys the Asian import shop that they happen across one afternoon, filled to the brim with snacks, ingredients, and manga. As they walk through the aisles, they’re both in heaven, and come out with almost four bags of food, snacks, figurines, and books.

While Sanji prefers home cooked meals, he excitedly heaves Zoro all across town to try different restaurants — one of his favourites surprisingly being in the food court of a mall that makes the best Japanese curry that Zoro’s had in years.

They come home every evening, freezing from the cold, to the toasty-ness of the fireplace and a hot meal. 

Despite technically being on break, most of the time after dinner is spent on the couch working on midterms. They usually sit in relative silence, both on their respective laptops, and with Zeff in his armchair either watching TV, or reading. 

It only takes Zoro a day or two to understand why Sanji speaks of Zeff so fondly. The man is gruff and blunt, always with a sharp insult ready to go, but Zoro can sense the underlying affection that he has for his employees, and especially for Sanji.

On one of the slower days, when Sanji’s asleep at his screen, Zeff takes the time to bring out a stack of old photo albums, with pictures ranging from mailed pictures of Sanji’s first birthday with his siblings, all the way to his high school graduation. Zoro’s favourites are the early school photos, where Sanji looks like he’s forgotten how to smile, and just wants to show as many of his teeth as possible.

He’s a tough man to read, with a poker face of a world champion, but when Zeff pokes fun at him as he’s washing the dishes one afternoon, he figures that the man must like him enough.

And if Zoro offers to weld the porch’s railing properly, he’s sure that has no impact on his opinion.

Sanji, on the other hand, is all over his dad, leaning his head against his shoulder, hands lingering on ears, necks, and wrists. One night, Zoro looks up from his screen to see Sanji asleep, curled against Zeff, nearly crushing the man in his armchair. 

He shoots Zoro a bemused look. “Sometimes I think I coddled him a bit too much growing up. Never thought he’d turn into a spider monkey.”

It looks ridiculous, seeing a 6-foot man cuddled up into his equally large father, but Zoro’s chest feels warm nonetheless. “Meh, he’s not so bad.” They both share a tired smirk before turning back to their respective activities.

By Friday morning, Sanji’s excitement seems to be zapped. Zeff told them the previous night that he wouldn’t need their help for prep the next morning, since there were a few staff that wanted to pick up extra shifts. Despite Sanji’s arguments, Zeff wouldn’t budge on the kitchen ban. 

They both wake up late, the sun already high in the sky, so Sanji whips up something small for brunch. Just simple blueberry buttermilk pancakes with orange infused butter, topped with fresh fruits, homemade whipped cream, bacon, sausage, fried beans, and over-easy eggs. Y’know, something quick.

Zoro nearly laughs at the platter, but Sanji’s sombre mood has him keeping it to himself. For his part, Zoro tries to keep conversation going during the meal, not letting him get too into his own head, but it doesn’t do much. The only thing that gets him to crack a genuine smile are a few photos of Miso from Perona.

He has to admit that they’re adorable. There are quite a few close-ups shot with a fisheye lens, which makes Miso’s eyes look huge. Zoro sets it as his new wallpaper.

Although he hates to see Sanji feel so down, he gets it. They’re leaving tomorrow afternoon, and sometimes after visiting family you haven’t seen in a long time, you don’t want to leave so soon. Watching Sanji spend time with his father and the Baratie cooks, Zoro feels a bit of that pang himself.

He’s really enjoyed his stay here — especially with a fully functioning furnace, unlike the rinky dink one they have back at the apartment.

With the day off, and a snow storm raging outside, they decide to use the time to finish off their work. If Zoro’s lucky, he can get his last midterm assignment done before leaving, and have Sunday to relax before courses start up again. 

He’s halfway through the second section of his lab report when Sanji starts to fidget in Zeff’s armchair. It’s nothing big. Just a bounce of his knee with the foot that’s propped against the coffee table. When his water glass starts to shake, Zoro places it on the floor and continues to work.

Forty minutes later, Sanji walks a lap around the main floor, before sulking back into the chair.

After another thirty minutes, he begins to make quiet noises and motions of discontent, waving his hand at his computer screen, like he’s arguing with it.

By the time it hits four in the afternoon, Zoro’s observed him get up eight times to open the fridge, stare blankly into it, before closing it and plopping back down, perpendicular to the seat. Zoro’s long finished his assignment, and watching this is getting to be a bit sad. “You good, Curls? You’re starting to give me agita with all your moving around.”

“I’m fine. Just having trouble focusing.” Usually, he’d leave it at that, but the wistful look in Sanji’s eyes is like a punch to the gut.

Zoro resists huffing at the response. “You’ll be back home before you know it. There are only a few weeks before summer. You’ll see your dad again soon enough.”

Sanji lets out a frustrated groan, letting his head fall over the armrest, looking at Zoro upside down. “It’s not that, I just– it’s stupid.”

He cuts in before Sanji can backpedal. “Nah, nah, nah, you already started this. Just say it. You’ll probably feel better anyway.” He receives a pout in lieu of a real response, so he stares Sanji down until he folds.

“Ugh, fine! It’s just– it’s Valentine’s Day, the most romantic day of the year , and I don’t have any plans. At all.” He tugs at his bangs as he looks up at the ceiling. “I love my dad, and I’ve missed him so much, but spending Valentine’s Day dinner with him is kinda… I dunno. I guess I’m kinda bummed.”

Zoro feels his heart stop. He should’ve known that Mr Romance would look forward to a day like today. He’d totally forgotten that their trip passed right over it. 

“I’d kinda been hoping that I’d have something serious to celebrate by now,” Sanji laments into the popcorn ceiling, the back of his hand over his forehead like a maiden in a Victorian painting, “but alas, I remain alone. Again.”

It dawns on Zoro that this is the most clear opening he’s had with Sanji since he came out in September. He doesn’t know when his heart started working again, somewhere after Valentine’s Dinner and before Sanji turned back to his computer screen, but now it’s pounding between his ears, too loud to ignore. 

He feels warm, from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, lungs burning. “I– uh.” He fumbles over himself, and the vacant look Sanji gives him makes him want to curl up in a ball and disappear, but the mini Nami in his brain is screaming at him to take the opportunity. 

And, you know what? Fuck it. It’s Valentine's Day, and Sanji’s practically begging for a date. Zoro’ll give him the most romantic ass date he’s ever had. He’ll woo the socks off the bastard so hard, he won’t know what hit him. 

“Do you want to go out? With me, I mean. Do you wanna go out, with me, for Valentine’s Day? Romantic dinner ‘n all?” Zoro’s stomach starts to churn when he looks him in the eyes. Sanji sits upright in the chair.

Frozen in place, Sanji stares at him, mouth agape. Zoro’s heart starts racing impossibly faster. This was a mistake, stupid Nami and Kuina giving him doomed advice. If he just hits reverse as hard as he can, maybe he can save this. “I-I mean, it can be a friend thing, if you want, like zero pressure to–”

Sanji shoots up, shaking both hands frantically in front of him. “No!” He yells, seemingly startling himself as well as Zoro, before lowering his volume. “No, a date -date works.”

Zoro nods along, though his head feels empty. “A date- date.” The words make Sanji’s cheeks flush. 

“Yeah.” Breathes Sanji, as Zoro’s own gets caught in his throat.

“O-okay yeah.” He nods, voice shaking as he clutches his shirt above his heart. “Yeah. Uh, just gimme an hour” he suggests, flipping his laptop closed as he gets up.

Sanji starts to splutter. “I mean, I can just take us out to–”

Zoro waves a hand, cutting him off. “No, no. You want a date, you’ll get the whole shebang. I’ll plan the entire thing out. I got this, just, get some work done in the meantime, or something.” Before Sanji can argue, he scoops up his stuff, scurrying up the stairs and into the guest bedroom.

With the click of the door behind him, he collapses onto the bed. Sweaty, heart pounding, out of breath, he feels like he’s just run a marathon. He traces the shape of the ceiling light with his eyes as he replays the conversation in his head.

I have a date with Sanji , he repeats in his head, like a mantra. Raising his palms to his face, Zoro lets out a smile in disbelief. “Yes!” He whoops, hoping after the fact that Sanji hadn’t heard.

Heart still racing, he basks in the feeling of success for a few minutes, before flipping onto his stomach and getting to work. He’s got a dinner to plan.

———

Turns out, Zoro gravely underestimates how hard it is to get a table, last second, on Valentine’s Day. It takes him nearly the entire hour to find a restaurant, and begs them on the phone to save them a seat.

With a few minutes to spare, he digs through his suitcase, trying to find the most put together outfit possible, especially given he’d packed sweatpants almost exclusively. He thanks whatever instinct told him to bring a pair of black slacks just in case Zeff wanted to take them out somewhere.

There’s nothing he can do about the snow, forced into heavy winter boots, but if he wears these with a belt and tucks in his cleanest white t-shirt, it should look fine, right?

The knock on his door makes him jump. “Zoro, if it’s too hard to find a place, don’t worry about it, really–” 

Zoro rips the door open. “No, no, I found one. I’m ready when you are.” Sanji stands in front of him, paused as he takes in Zoro’s outfit. Fuck, I should have known I’d look stupid. I shoulda called Nami or something, why did I –

The corners of his mouth quirk up, as he meets Zoro’s eyes. “Okay. Let’s go, then.” He turns on his heel, beckoning Zoro to follow.

Wrapped up in their winter gear, they get as far as the first intersection before Zoro takes out his phone, open to a navigation app, and hands it to Sanji, who gives him a funny look. Zoro just flushes, looking away. “We don’t have time to waste getting lost. Not today.”

With a chuckle, Sanji takes him by the hand, following the directions as he looks at their destination. “Ooh, good choice, Marimo! I’ve been wanting to go there for a while, but never had the chance. They’re always so busy. I didn’t know they took reservations.”

The truth is that they don’t take reservations, the woman that works there made it very clear, but hearing the hopelessness in his voice must have made her pity him. I’ve been in love with this guy for years and I finally got a date with him, like, an hour ago. He begged. I will do anything for you to just save me a table for two. I will literally e-Transfer you $100 right now as a deposit. Please!

To say the least, he’s down $100.

When they arrive, the restaurant is packed with people, but through the window, tucked in the back corner, he sees an empty table with two chairs, and Zoro feels like he can breathe again. Sanji, distracted by the window into the kitchen, thankfully doesn’t pay attention as Zoro talks to the attendant, who immediately clocks him as the desperate guy from the phone .

They make their way to the back of the restaurant. As they sit down, they take in their surroundings. It’s a small noodle restaurant in ChinaTown, and Zoro’s impressed by just how many people manage to fit in the space. The restaurant is painted red, with a yellow accent wall and details near the ceiling that look like East Asian hip-and-gable roofs. The furniture is made of simple dark wood, and the table has a rather ornate clay cylinder that holds chopsticks and soup spoons.

“Why’d you choose this place?” Sanji inquires as he scans the menu.

“As much as I woulda loved to go somewhere super fancy, we both know I don’t have the money, and I already know nothing about this city, so I thought we’d go to the only reliable place you can find in every city: China Town.” He admits, flipping the page. “And I know you like Asian food, so I took a gamble. Thought fresh noodles would be good.”

He doesn’t know what he said to make Sanji blush, but he’s grateful nonetheless.

As they wait for their food, Zoro tries to think of something to say. Sanji’s eyes are on him, watching Zoro with a soft, amused expression.

“Sorry,” Zoro blurts, shoving his hands under his thighs, “I’ve never done this. I don’t know what to do. Or say.”

Sanji’s face lightens. He lets his arm rest on the table, palm up. He makes a grabby motion diagonally at Zoro. He lays is left hand in Sanji’s.

“Marimo, you planned a date in under an hour, and somehow managed to get us a table. On Valentine’s Day. I’d say you’re doing well so far, don’t worry. Plus, we just got here. You’ve got plenty of time to prove me wrong.” Sanji’s thumb hooks around Zoro’s as he jests. He presses into his palm as his other hand comes to lay at Zoro’s wrist, caressing the side, up and down.

He feels his cheeks start to warm, so he looks at Sanji’s ears instead. “I don’t know how much you can plan in an hour, it was more like a scramble for the least bad date possible.”

Sanji scoffs, but it’s light and airy. “Well, you did pretty good for aiming for least bad. You can still celebrate the small wins , hm?” Hearing his own words from Christmas come out of Sanji’s mouth flusters him. He can only huff and roll his eyes in response, though, Sanji seems to enjoy his reaction, continuing his ministrations on his wrist.

Zoro feels his hands start to sweat, but Sanji doesn’t pull away until their bowls are placed in front of them.

Sanji pulls out his phone, hovering the camera over their bowls, delighted. “This looks so good!” He chirps. As the camera shutter goes off, Zoro digs in, stirring the noodles around before taking a mouthful.

“Hold on, I need proof that you dressed up for me.” Sanji says, as Zoro’s already mid-bite. It’s the only warning he gets before he looks up and the picture’s snapped. He makes a noise of protest through his nose, muffled by the noodles, but doesn’t put up much of a fight when he sees Sanji looking smitten.

Zoro reaches for the phone to take a look, which Sanji hands over easily. Luckily, he doesn’t look too bad. Caught off guard, cheeks puffed up with noodles, but still well-kept. He swipes back into the camera as he sees Sanji pick up the bottle of chili oil from their table. The face Sanji makes after taking an unexpectedly spicy whiff is too perfect not to capture. He sends it to himself before sliding the phone back.

“Holy shit, this is spicier than I thought it’d be.” Sanji’s eyes are watering as he pours some oil into his soup anyway.

Zoro snorts, plucking the bottle out of his hands, “so weak. A little bit of heat never killed anybody,” he taunts, then takes a sniff himself. The instant zing travels from his nose to behind his eyes. 

Zoro’s head swings back on instinct, like he’s been punched, with total disregard for the wall behind him. As his head thunks heavily into the wooden panels, Sanji doubles over, laughing, hanging onto the corner of the table as to not fall out of his chair. Amused by his reaction, Zoro lets himself quietly laugh along.

Sanji’s breath is ragged as he tries to speak, but he can only manage to say fractions of words at a time. “Fuck” and “sorry” are the only coherent things he chokes out. His face is so red, he looks like he’s about to burst. “Sorry, it’s really not that funny, but your face–” he cuts himself off in favour of a wheeze.

It takes a minute for them to calm down and start eating again. Slowly, they manage to hold a conversation. Small, mundane things, but the nerves start to fade away and Zoro enjoys himself. Though, the way Sanji slides both his feet forward to knock against Zoro’s, then presses their calves together, makes his heart jump.

Sanji’s pushing his bowl toward him, after convincing Zoro to try some of his broth, when he brings up a topic Zoro’s been dreading. 

“So, two of the culinary schools got back to me.” Zoro tries not to wince. The subject of Sanji leaving is never one he enjoys discussing. “I got rejected from the one in Denmark.”

Well, now he feels bad for being avoidant of the subject. “Oh, I’m sorry, Curls.”

Sanji just waves a hand dismissively, not looking too broken up about it. “It’s alright, I was actually thinking of accepting the offer back home, anyway.”

Zoro looks at him over the rim of the bowl. “Aren’t you gonna wait to hear back from France?”

He just shrugs, poking at the last of the noodles in Zoro’s bowl. “Eh, there’s no guarantee that I’ll get in, anyway. It’d be nice to stay close to home, too.”

Zoro shoots him an unimpressed look. “You don’t have to accept any programs until May. Don’t let one rejection from some stupid school affect you. Have faith that it’ll pan out. They’d be stupid not to take you.”

“Denmark didn’t think so. Plus, I’d hate to wait three months only to be rejected.” Despite the certainty that Sanji speaks with, he still looks a bit glum, stabbing into a noodle with a chopstick.

“You weren’t even interested in Denmark to begin with, and Cordon Bleu is your dream school. You put weeks into your application there.” Zoro drains the rest of the broth, spooning up every last piece of green onion. “Don’t jump the gun. You’ll hate yourself even more if you accept the school back home and then receive an offer letter the next day.” He squeezes Sanji’s calf between his own, in a gesture that he hopes is comforting.

“Cook, you’re getting in. Just… wait.” Zoro’s sure that he doesn’t believe him entirely, but Sanji attempts a close-lipped smile anyway. “Do you wanna get outta here?” A distraction could be good.

Already in a slightly lighter mood, Sanji nods. “Yeah, I’m ready to head out.”

“‘Kay, I’ll go pay, meet me out front?” As he gets up from his seat, Sanji pokes hard at Zoro’s waist. “Ooh look at you, offering to pay for dinner, how chivalrous” Sanji teases, already wiping the table with his napkin. 

“Fuck off and finish that last scoop, loser.”

(Waiting for Sanji to come back from a last-second bathroom trip, Zoro spots the attendant through the window. She catches his eye and waves her hand in a motion that he thinks is supposed to mean how’d it go?  

He shoots her a double thumbs up with a wide smile before giving her a deep bow in gratitude, bending right from his waist. She doesn’t get to respond, as she’s called away by work, but Zoro hopes the massive tip he left covers everything he means to say)

———

They’re about to head home when Sanji pats his pockets. “I forgot my smokes,” is all he whines before pulling Zoro by the hand toward the nearest corner store. 

It’s far colder than it was earlier, now that the sun’s down. The snow fall is still heavy with big flakes, but the wind has died down, making Zoro feel like he’s in a Hallmark movie.

After kicking the snow off their boots against the brick outside, they wander into the store. It’s surprisingly large on the inside — not that Sanji pays any mind, gunning for the old man at the register.

Zoro would have followed, but something toward the back catches his eye. He lets go of Sanji’s hand to track it down.

As he gets to the back row, he hears Sanji’s payment sound on the card reader. “Marimo, did you get lost?” He calls.

He glances overtop the shelves, catching Sanji’s curious eye. “Nah, just looking for something. Go out ‘n smoke, you addict, I’ll be there in a sec.” 

It earns Zoro a shrug, as he tears the plastic wrap on his way out, “‘Kay.” As the bell on the door rings, he turns around the corner to find what he was looking for. Along the back wall, there are a few bouquets of flowers, some fairing better than others, and in the far corner, a large bushel of yellow flowers. 

He reaches out a hand to thumb at the petals of one of the flowers. Zoro isn’t much of a gardener, but they looked healthy enough, colours bright and fully bloomed. Maybe he should get one for Sanji… flowers are romantic, right?

“. 40 dollars.” The voice nearly makes Zoro jump out of his skin. He turns to see the store owner, walking toward him. 

That’s too much money , Zoro grimaces, and I’m not about to carry around a barrel of flowers . He chances the shop owner a glance. He’s had good luck today, why not see how far it stretches?

“ whole thing?”

The man folds his arms, looking at him through his thick glasses, silently. Zoro can’t help but fidget under his scrutiny, not wanting to spend too long in the store, lest Sanji get antsy.

The man turns to look at Sanji through the window, then returns to Zoro. He sighs. “ . ”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”

The man nods, waving his hand vaguely, already walking back to the register. “ . ”

Zoro looks down at the bush, before sorting through all the flowers. It takes him a second, but he finds a large one with no blemishes. He carefully reaches into the plant, tearing the stem cleanly, then rotates the flower between his thumb and forefinger, satisfied. 

As he makes his way out, he thanks the man, who only grunts at him.

Outside, Sanji’s bent over, grabbing his now-extinguished cigarette from the snow, blowing out his last breath of smoke. As he stands up straight, pocketing the butt, Zoro puts an arm around Sanji’s shoulders, gently pulling him in. “I got you something.” He says into his ear.

He feels Sanji’s cheeks pull into a smile against his own. “Oh, well now you’ve got me excited. What chocolate bar did you get me for a ?” Zoro feels Sanji’s hand come to settle on the small of his back.

He pulls away enough to get his hand between the both of them, raising the flower toward Sanji’s nose, earning him a small gasp.

“This is so sweet,” he coos, smiling wide. Sanji cups Zoro’s jaw, pressing a kiss into his cheek, “thank you, .”

He knows his face flushes noticeably when Sanji catches the tip of his nose between his thumb and the side of his pointer finger’s joint, wiggling affectionately. He doesn’t let Zoro ruminate on the action, already pulling him along the sidewalk, tucking the flower behind his ear.

They’re ten minutes away from Zeff’s home when Zoro tugs Sanji off course. “Trust me, I know where this is.” He argues when Sanji raises concerns about getting lost. He still lets out a breath of relief when they make it to the park’s entrance without any wrong turns.

It’s only eight, but it’s so dark that the only light in the park is cast by the light posts along the sidewalks and the pathways that cut through the greenery. The park is small, only two blocks lengthwise, but it’s covered by trees. Zoro takes in the way the falling snow is illuminated by the streetlights. The park is quiet, save for the rustle of a few squirrels further into the trees and cars a few streets over. 

“Hey, Mossy,” Sanji slows their pace to a lazy stroll. He’s wearing an easy smile, thumbing Zoro’s knuckles, “you’re really going all out for this, huh?”

Zoro tilts his head, confused. “‘Course I am. Why wouldn’t I?”

He worries his lip between his teeth for a second before replying. “I mean, like, you scrambled to get us a table, and you paid for dinner, then got me flowers,” he bobs his hand up and down for every thing he lists, “and now you’re walking me through the park. You’ve been so touchy and sweet… it just makes me wonder why you changed your mind, is all.”

Zoro pulls them to a halt, tugging back on Sanji’s hand, cheeks numb from the cold. “What do you mean, changed my mind ?”

Sanji lets his head drop slightly to the side as he turns to face him, eyebrows furrowed. “When I asked you out back in December, you weren’t so enthusiastic.”

His heart is pounding in his throat. “W-what do you mean, asked me out ?!” Sanji rolls his eyes, slightly irritated. “Zoro, I literally asked you, do you want to go out sometime , and you took it as a way to introduce me to the dating scene . That sounded like a rejection to me.”

Zoro feels like he can’t breathe. That time they’d gone to Iva’s club, Sanji was trying to ask him out? He’d thought Sanji just wanted to go outside , and it’s not like it was clear given the context. 

But looking back, he vaguely recalls Sanji being nervous while asking, wringing his fingers into Miso’s fur, and he had looked let down after Zoro suggested Iva’s place, hadn’t he? 

“I royally fucked up, didn’t I?” His face burns in embarrassment. How could he have missed that?

Any confidence Sanji previously had completely shatters. He looks at Zoro with sad eyes, hair mangled and wet with snow, as he steps away. “I get if this was just a way to humour me, and you aren’t looking for anything serious after this. I really, really appreciate all the effort you put into tonight–”

Zoro backs up into a tree, then drops into a squat, covering his face with his hands in disbelief. “No, it’s not that. I just– I woulda said yes, had I known. And I didn’t! Know. I didn’t know. I just never thought you’d ever be interested in me , of all people.” 

Sanji lets out a squawk. “Marimo, I only ever told Iva, and that was near the end of my placement when I was drunk off my ass, but I’ve liked you for almost a year!” Sanji waves his arms out to the sky.  “What’s not to like? You’re smart and funny, reliable, so damn supportive of everyone in your own gruff, Marimo way, and push me to be better every day — not to mention, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Sanji paces back and forth, creating his own path in the snow. “Part of why I got on those apps was because I didn’t think you would be interested in me , and I needed to know whether this was an I like guys thing, or an I like Zoro thing.”

Far away, in the back of his mind, he thinks he hears Iva chirp, I’ve got a feeling he’d say yes . He lets out a loud groan, glaring holes into the cloudy sky. Maybe, if he wishes hard enough, a meteor, the size of a single person, will come and hit him. God, he feels stupid. 

“Curly, I—” he breathes, standing back up with a pained look. His mind’s racing, giving his heart a run for its money, as he splutters. “I’ve had a crush on you since first year. I’ve driven all our friends up the wall with how pathetic I am about you. Nami, Usopp, Kuina, Perona, my dad , everyone.” He raises his hands to clutch at his hair. Something he belatedly realizes is one of Sanji’s own quirks.

“Then you came out, and I was the only one of us to know. It was so nice to see you let go a bit, and I was so honoured that you let me be a part of that, especially after the way this all started. I just couldn’t take advantage of that trust just because I’ve been in love with you for so long — and you can do so much better than me, why the hell would you settle–”

His only warning is a hand slamming into his chest before Zoro’s back hits the tree trunk and Sanji’s lips are pressed into his.

Zoro’s entire world stops — he just barely notices Sanji’s hands coming to hold his jaw, thumbs anchoring around the front of his ears. He’s sure that the thumping of his heart is obvious, even through their winter coats, as their chests come together. 

The kiss is chaste, just a solid pressure of Sanji’s mouth against his own. As Sanji starts to pull back, Zoro’s brain kickstarts, following his lips, recapturing them gently. 

Both their lips are chapped and cracked from the cold, hot air from their noses puffing into clouds between them. The cartilage of Sanji’s nose presses into Zoro’s cheek as he takes Zoro’s top lip between his teeth.

Zoro opens his mouth to take a gasping breath. Sanji gives him a second before taking the chance to slip his tongue into his mouth, the kiss becoming molten. Zoro reciprocates eagerly, ignoring how Sanji’s teeth bump against his in inexperience. 

In the cold and unforgiving snow, his fingers and toes are numb, but he feels hot all over as Sanji laps at him languidly. Even with his tongue shoved down Zoro’s throat and being all teeth, he kisses so gently, like any sudden movements could break something.

Zoro could stay against this tree forever, but Sanji pulls away.

They’re both panting, silent as they eye each other’s mouths. Suddenly, the blond jumps back, hands raised like he’s been caught doing something wrong. “Sorry, that might have been the worst quality kiss ever–” but Zoro just grabs at his wrists, tugs, and dips back in. He can’t help but smile into it, nipping at Sanji’s lips. His cheeks pull impossibly wider as he feels Sanji grin back.

(When they finally make it home, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, Zeff’s still at work. Sanji pulls Zoro into his arms as they warm up on the couch in front of the fireplace.

“I had a good time,” Sanji murmurs into his cheek, “we should do this again.”

And what’s Zoro supposed to do? Not kiss him a third time?)

———

Zoro wakes up the next morning to the sun shining straight into his eyes. He groans, pressing his face into the couch cushion.

Normally, he’d try to sneak in another half hour, but he can hear Sanji bustling around the kitchen, radio on, and Zoro knows better than to miss breakfast. Especially when they have a train to catch.

He peeks over the arm of the couch to watch Sanji cook and can’t help but smile. He’s swaying his hips as he prods at something in a pan, singing under his breath. Something about smoking and lunch. Fitting.

He rests his chin on his forearms, keeping his eyes on… his boyfriend (are they boyfriends now?). They both fell asleep on the couch together, but Sanji must have gone through Zoro’s luggage at some point this morning, because he’s pretty sure that’s his sweater. Unless Sanji owns one that says ENGINEERING in big blue letters.

A noise of fabric shifting catches Zoro’s attention. He turns to see Zeff reading a cooking magazine in his armchair, paying him no mind. 

It occurs to him that he might have an obligation that he failed to fulfill yesterday. He sits up and scoots to the cushion closest to Zeff. He takes one last look into the kitchen before quietly clearing his throat. “Zeff?”

The man hums, not looking up from his reading. Zoro’s palms start to sweat. He sits cross-legged, hunching his back.

“I wanted to ask for your– uh– blessing. To date Sanji.”

Zeff glances at him flatly from over his reading glasses. “Seems a bit traditional for you, kid. And ya usually don’t ask this after the fact.”

Zoro itches at his wrist, wincing, but tries to keep convincing eye contact. “Yesterday was a spur of the moment thing, but I would’ve otherwise. I don’t care about this stuff, but I know Curly does.”

He watches as Zeff pauses, places his magazine on the coffee table, then stares into Zoro’s soul. “Then you won’t mind me asking what your intentions are with my son.”

“…Uh. To date him? I don’t really know what you mean.”

Zeff rolls his eyes and purses his lips. “Cabbage, why the hell should I give you my blessing?” He says it quietly, but his voice is still gruff.

Oh. Well, that’s not an easy question. He’s still not convinced he deserves it. 

“I dunno,” he scratches at his neck, “I’ve been in love with him for years, and never did anything about it ‘cuz I never thought he’d be interested, but by some miracle, he thinks I’m okay. And I just– I’m serious. About him. Us. So I’m not gonna give up this chance no matter what you say. But I know your support would mean a lot to him.” 

Zeff huffs through his nostrils. Zoro hopes he wasn’t too blunt.

“From all that I’ve heard about you over the years, you’ve had my blessing almost right from the beginning. But let me get this straight,” the man leans forward and lowers his voice even further, “if I catch wind that you caused a single tear that isn’t out of joy, they’ll never find your body.”

Threats have never held much weight for Zoro. His expertise in martial arts, his physique, and his general don’t-care attitude have always kept him from being too intimidated, but the way Zeff looks at him makes his stomach drop to his feet.

“Yes Sir.” He squeaks.

———

The next few weeks are somewhat of a blur. By the time midterms are over, they’re busy with moving onto preparing for finals, and it feels like there’s no time for anything aside from coursework.

Despite that, Zoro and Sanji find time to spend together, whether it’s a date night, or a coffee break between classes.

It all feels like a dream. It’s been nearly a month of waking up to morning kisses, draping themselves over the other’s shoulders, and holding hands, but Zoro still finds it hard to believe at times. The day that Sanji first calls him darling , he nearly melts.

Telling their friends is something that Zoro will (unfortunately) never forget. They’d agreed to let it happen naturally — sitting everybody down to make an announcement felt too formal.

So, when everyone comes over for Sanji’s birthday, they don’t acknowledge it. Still unsure about how they feel about PDA, they tone it down to small touches. Lingering hands and gazes.

Long after dinner and cake, Zoro’s woken up from his food coma by a squeal coming from the kitchen. “Oh my god!” It’s Nami, by the sounds of it. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes.

“Are you guys okay?” Chopper calls from next to him on the couch.

He hears Nami run into the middle of the living room. “Our suffering is over! Zoro asked Sanji out while they were in Montreal!”

His eyes shoot open as he hears several people get up from their seats. He’s too slow in his escape, already squeezed into a hug by Franky, then tackled by Luffy, followed by the others. 

“Zo-bro finally took the plunge,” Franky wails. 

Zoro feels Robin give him a pat on the back, and someone gives him a noogie. He can’t catch everything everyone is saying. They’re all talking over each other, expressing their own relief.

Geez, he didn’t realize that his love life was giving everyone so much grief. He rolls his eyes at the thought, then catches a glimpse of Sanji at the doorway of the kitchen.

He shoots him an unimpressed look, but Sanji just laughs. “Sorry, baby, she asked what we did on our trip. I wasn’t going to lie to her.”

Later that night, when they’ve settled into Zoro’s bed, Sanji presses their foreheads together, and Zoro can smell the booze on his breath. “I hate that you’re hot, Marimo.” 

Zoro exhales, amused. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Curls.”

“You should be. I just wanna kiss you all the time. ‘Wanna do it for the rest of my life — just follow you around and pepper you with kisses all over.” He suddenly takes hold of Zoro’s cheeks, squishing them together as he bursts into song, “ . ”

The noise makes him scrunch his nose, eyelids still heavy with sleep. Zoro places a hand on Sanji’s mouth before nosing into his cheek. “Go to sleep, . ”

Sanji just licks his hand and cackles when he jerks away.

———

Exams come and go, and before they know, it’s mid-April.

They’re having a picnic at a park, surrounded by newly-bloomed cherry blossom trees. It being an early Wednesday afternoon, they almost have the park to themselves, with the neighbourhood kids still at school.

It’s a shockingly nice day. The sun is shining and warm, with a cool breeze to accompany it — they even decided to stick Miso in a harness and bring her with them.

They’re watching a family of ducks waddle at the side of the lake, Miso asleep in Zoro’s lap, when Sanji gets a notification.

There’s immediately no trace of the easy smile that he’s worn all afternoon. “Oh fuck.” He breathes.

Zoro begins to lean into Sanji to peek over his shoulder, but Sanji just shoves his phone in his face and starts to pace.

The first thing he sees is Sanji’s wallpaper. It’s a picture of Zoro asleep with his head tilted all the way back, drooling — it’s made worse by the fact that it was taken in 0.5x, so his forehead looks huge.

Just under his behemoth of a nose, sits an email notification.

, it reads.

“I think I’m going to throw up.” He hears Sanji fret. Miso jumps out of Zoro’s lap to chase after Sanji’s shoelaces.

Zoro holds the phone back out to Sanji. “You’re not. Just open it. You’re stressing out the cat.”

“I can’t,” he whines, pushing Zoro’s hand away. His hands are shaking as they jump to his chin, then his hair. “You do it.”

He grimaces before tapping in Sanji’s password. Of course, having put in his application as a French national, the decision letter is written in French. He tries to parse his way through the words, then through the attached PDF. Zoro furrows his eyebrows.

He reads them both again, heart in his stomach, before pasting the important bits into a translator, just to be sure . The few minutes this takes makes Sanji antsy. “Why are you taking so long? Taking long isn’t a good sign, I know that. If I didn’t get in, just tell me–” Zoro snatches Sanji’s wrist and pulls him into his side.

As if the phone threatens to turn him to stone, Sanji shields the screen from view.

“The email’s in French, you dingbat. Gimme a sec to translate it.” Zoro snaps, but quickly feels bad about it. He places a hand on Sanji’s cheek, running his thumb along the bottom of his jaw. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack. Close your eyes, feel the sun, and breathe, Curly. You know how.” 

Zoro lets him go through a few cycles of breathing exercises. Recently, Sanji’s been working on strategies to bring himself down from panicking, so he lets him go through his routine. When he feels his boyfriend’s muscles relax and lean more of his weight into him, Zoro begins to caress Sanji’s flank. 

“You okay now?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” 

Zoro sucks his teeth. “Okay, good, can’t have you keeling over quite yet, Curls. You’ve got a flight to book.”

Sanji jolts in his arms. The movement startles Miso enough that Zoro has to catch her leash, preventing her from jumping too far. 

“Are you serious?” Sanji whispers with his hands over his mouth and wet eyes.

“Yeah,” Zoro responds softly into his cheek, pressing it into his lips, “congrats, baby.”

They stay cuddled as he reads it for himself, paired with expletives in at least three languages. Leaning his head on top of Sanji’s, Zoro lets his eyes fall closed. I’ll deal with this later , he thinks, for now, just celebrate with him .

He hears the ring of an outgoing call. “Carne, get my dad on the phone, tell him it’s an emergency!”

———

So, when Zoro told himself that he’d deal with it later , that meant avoiding it entirely. He was honestly going to let the due date pass and hope everyone forgot about it, but on a Sunday morning in late May, Sanji brings it up.

They’re eating breakfast as Sanji fills out paperwork for his upcoming program. He has IDs, language tests and academic records sprawled across the table. 

“Marimo, did you ever end up applying to that Master’s program?” He asks, absentmindedly. Zoro nearly chokes on the croissant he’d just shoved in his mouth. 

“Oh– uh,” is all he can manage between coughs. Sanji pats him heartily on the back.

Zoro sighs. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation, but he knows omitting the truth was bad enough. He won't lie outright.

He chugs down half his coffee. “Yeah, I got in, scholarship and all,” he feels a pang of guilt hit his stomach as Sanji’s face lights up, “but I don’t think I’m gonna take it.”

Sanji frowns, confused. “What? Why?”

The question makes him nervous. Zoro knows he won’t like the answer. Grimacing, Zoro looks down at his food.

“I mean, as an engineer, I can work from anywhere, and I speak French with working proficiency, so I could just–” He’s cut off when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sanji raise a hand.

“Stop.”

He looks livid, forcefully closing his laptop and shoving it to the side, with only enough gentleness to not break it. Sanji places both his palms on the table.

“Zoro,” he says so carefully that it sets him on edge, “are you rejecting the offer because I’m leaving?”

He doesn’t know what to say to make this better. “I don’t need another degree to get work–”

Sanji lets out a growl of frustration. “That’s not what I’m asking, Marimo. Are you basing your decision around me?”

Zoro can’t bring himself to look him in the eye, opting to fold his napkin into halves, over and over. “I– yeah.”

The sound of a chair screeching makes Zoro wince. Sanji leans heavily into the table. 

“If I didn’t ask today, were you just gonna let the offer lapse?!”

Well, when he put it like that…

The silence is enough of a reply for Sanji, who seethes. He throws his arms up into the air. “Zoro! You’re not about to throw away a Master’s degree —a program that you’ve said would be cool— for me, !”

“Two years is a long time.” Zoro tries, but the look on Sanji’s face stops him from continuing.

“We’re not in medieval times, where we have to communicate by carrier pigeon!” He takes a few steps away, back turned to the table.

“I just want to be with you.” Zoro admits, voice cracking. He hears Sanji take a deep breath before turning back to him.

“I know, baby.” He sighs. “But we agreed to take this relationship one step at a time. This is a huge step that you just neglected to tell me about. Did you think that you’d just come along with me and never have to answer for this?”

He hadn’t thought about that, actually. “… I guess.”

It’s the wrong answer to give, he realizes, as Sanji puts his head in his hands. He groans as he drags his hands to his temples, looking down at the floor. “When does the acceptance window close anyway?”

Zoro gulps. “Tomorrow.” 

“What the fuck, Mossy!” When Zoro reaches for Sanji’s wrist, he shakes him off, walking away. 

“No, I’m mad at you. We’re going to talk about this, but right now I need some air, and you’re going to sit at this damn table and think long and hard about whether you want this for yourself .” He already has his shoes on when he pauses at the door.

Sanji turns around to point at Zoro. “Don’t you dare have me part of the equation.”

The door slams.

Zoro accepts the offer before the sun sets.

———

The summer is tough. With every passing day, Sanji’s departure looms closer. It takes a few days, but when Sanji cools down (and after innumerable apologies from Zoro), they spend as much time together as their work schedules permit.

After graduation, they try to knock off as many of Sanji’s bucket list items as they can; eating at a Michelin star restaurant, seeing the Northern lights, taking a pottery class, learning to rock climb. Some days, they lay in bed, listening to each other’s heartbeats instead.

“I’m so in love with you, Zoro, sometimes I don't know what to do with myself.” Sanji whispers one night. His head is on Zoro’s chest, finger tracing his collarbone. He says it like it’s nothing. Like he’s said it a million times. Like Zoro isn’t three days out from his last shower. 

He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t , but his heart hurts, and his throat gets tight. Sanji wipes at his cheeks anyway.

With the gross humidity of July comes the uncomfortable conversation: what next? There’s no easy way of discussing can we survive long-distance, or do we break up ?

Sanji’s surprisingly clinical about it, presenting a pros and cons list for each possibility. Both of them want to stay together, but they go over the list anyway — Sanji chain-smokes through the entire thing.

It doesn’t take long for them to decide to give long-distance a proper try — plenty of couples do it. So can they. They agree to call each other regularly and visit for holidays when they can. It’s only eight months, and I’ll be home for the summer , Sanji reasons.

Dropping Sanji off at the airport at the end of August is a tear-fill affair. Unlike their friends, Zoro does a good job of keeping his eyes dry as they all say their goodbyes. He even outlasts Robin, who he’s sure he sees dabbing a tissue at her cheek.

But then Sanji turns to look at him with a watery smile, and Zoro feels his front dissolve. His face crumples, and his eyes are wet, but he doesn’t let any tears fall.

Sanji wraps him in a tight hug, fingers digging into his back as he whispers sweet nothings into Zoro’s ears. Zoro can’t do anything but hold on. 

“I don’t want to let go, Curls.” He mumbles into Sanji’s ear.

Sanji lets out a breathy laugh, bringing a hand to cradle the back of Zoro’s head. “Me neither.”

“What if I just held you here for eternity?” Zoro jumps as Sanji pinches his waist.

He leans his temple into Zoro’s, hugging him tighter. “The best I can offer is one more minute, my love.”

Zoro hums, closing his eyes. “Okay. One more minute.”

He tries to memorize everything about Sanji. The feel of his hands, the way their chests press together, the smell of his cologne and roughness of his stubble. When it’s finally time to go, it takes longer to pry him off of Sanji than he’d like to admit. With promises of seeing each other at Christmas and time that will just fly by , Zoro watches Sanji pass through security.

Living alone is, well, lonely. The apartment feels empty. The bed feels cold. And if he sleeps in one of Sanji’s hoodies for the first two weeks, not a single soul aside from Miso knows.

Kuina comes over a few times, bearing tupperware full of familiar dishes — the recipes are the same but none of them are as good as Sanji’s.

Time does not , in fact, fly by. Every second feels like hours. Every day is just another thing in the way of Christmas break. But then the new semester starts and he gets busy.

They call each other every night, as Zoro eats dinner and Sanji gets ready for bed, or every few days, when their coursework starts to ramp up.

The first month is the hardest. Watching the leftovers in the fridge disappear, Sanji’s side of the couch now taken by Miso’s blanket, his pillow stops smelling like him.

Zoro’s phone is filled with pictures that he’s sent throughout the day. Assignments, parks, fresh produce, ties with cool patterns, and most often, just Sanji.

One night, Zoro takes a picture of Miso sleeping atop his head, the flash turns on by accident, capturing a truly horrendous picture of his reaction, face scrunched from the sudden light. He sends it to Sanji without much thought.

He receives a text a minute later. I miss seeing your face , it reads.

It hadn’t occurred to him that Sanji might actually want to have pictures of him. He’s just been sending pictures of their friends and Miso for the past month and a half.

Zoro tries to get over his camera-shyness from then on.

For how long it takes the first three months to go by, as soon as it hits December, Zoro blinks, and suddenly it’s almost Christmas.

The week before Sanji’s flight back, he can’t sleep. He tosses and turns, all night, unable to fall asleep until the early morning. By the fifth day, Zoro crashes, dead to the world, only waking up for a second when a paw presses into his cheek in the middle of the night.

He wakes up the next morning and his mouth is dry — a sign that he’d snored the entire night. The warmth of the bed tries to coax him back to sleep, but a meow from the kitchen changes his plans.

Miso yowls again and Zoro groans. “Hold on, Miso. I never let you starve, today won’t be different.” He calls as he tumbles out of bed, putting the hood of his sweater back on, and adjusting himself in his boxer briefs.

He makes a beeline for the kitchen before the cat can make more noise. He pulls out a can of wet food, cracks it open, pours half in the bowl, mixes it with a fork, then sets it down next to Miso’s water bowl.

“You know, you should mix some dry food in there too.”

Zoro scoffs, tossing the fork in the sink, “Yeah, well she likes wet food more, and you’re not here to–” He freezes.

Wait.

His eyes shoot around the room until they land on Sanji, who’s sitting at their dining table, grinning.

He looks tired, no doubt having taken a red-eye flight. His hair is longer, just past his chin, letting his natural curls out instead of the usual ironed bangs, and wearing one of Zoro’s shirts that he’d thought he lost.

Zoro drops the can in his hands as he dashes toward him. It’s not a far distance, but Sanji meets him halfway.

Their mouths crash together, hot and needy. There’s an urgency to get as close as possible. To crawl into each other’s skin, carve a space for themselves between each other’s ribs, and live there.

Zoro’s hands never settle, travelling from his back to waist, shoulder to head. He walks Sanji back until he’s sitting on the table. 

“Fuck, Curly, I missed you. I missed you. I missed you.” Zoro gasps between kisses, palming at his boyfriend’s thighs.

His tongue hits teeth as Sanji can’t help but smile. “I’ve missed you too, darling.” He pulls away as his fingers travel from Zoro’s waist to cup his pecs through his sweater and squeeze. “You been working out more? The girls have gotten bigger.”

Zoro slaps Sanji’s hands away, moving his own to grab at his waist, dragging Sanji’s body closer. Their foreheads press together.

He caresses the juncture between Sanji’s jaw and ear, then kisses him again, so softly that Zoro would blush at the intimacy when he thought about it later.

“I love you.” He whispers into Sanji’s mouth. It’s not the first time he’s said it. He can’t even count the number of times he’s told Sanji, but it always feels like the first. His heart races all the same. 

Sanji pinches his cheek. “I should go away more often if this is the way you react when I get back.” The immediate scowl on Zoro’s face makes him laugh. 

He squeezes his legs around Zoro’s waist, hands on his face to look him in the eyes. “I love you.”

It takes until then for Zoro’s brain to catch up with everything. “Wait, when did you get home? You’re not supposed to be here ‘till tomorrow.”

Sanji smiles easily, “My exams ended a little early, and I just really wanted to be home, so I rebooked. Got home like three hours ago. I snuck into bed, but got restless and didn’t want to wake you up, so I just chilled out here.”

Zoro can’t help but kiss him again, nipping at Sanji’s lips hungrily. With Sanji’s hands already occupied by gripping his ass, Zoro mouths at his neck, digging his teeth into the freckles along the way.

To say the least, after so many months apart, the sex is good. Really good.

They’re attached at the hip for the next three weeks, hardly ever out of each other’s sight — not at home, not at Mihawk’s Christmas party, nor at Zeff’s when they visit for New Years. 

Zoro hides it best he can, but he’s on edge, fully aware of just how little time three weeks is. But with plans for their winter reading week around the corner, it’s not so bad.

———

Not to be an architecture nerd, but four days in, Zoro’s kind of enamoured by Sanji’s apartment. It’s small, but in a quiet pocket in the centre of the city and beautiful. How he managed to bag a place in one of those old Haussmann-style buildings, Zoro may never know. The interior is painted entirely white, with large windows, and a closed fireplace on top of floors that looks to be oak.

Much like his trip to Montreal last year, Sanji’s spends the entire week touring him around the city, taking him to restaurants, parks and all the cool historical buildings. 

Zoro refuses to admit that the Eiffel Tower is his favourite, but Sanji has several pictures of him standing there, just staring up at it with an open mouth. He proceeded to bore Sanji by explaining all the structural marvels —about grids, lattices, and iron— and the argument was dropped.

It’s mid-afternoon as he lies sideways on the bed, watching Sanji smoke on the balcony a foot away. 

“Do you think you’d have room for two more?” He asks, pulling a pillow under his chin.

Sanji turns to him, taking a drag, back against the railing. “Two more what?”

“Roommates.” Zoro replies innocently.

He rolls his eyes, blowing out a breath of smoke. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I’m sure rent would be cheaper to split instead of us both living on our own. The city’s nice. I like the area, plus I finally get to use the shit I learned in those French courses.” Zoro rolls onto his back, looking at his boyfriend upside down.

“Next year I’m working on my thesis, which can be done anywhere in the world as long as I meet with my supervisor regularly. Win-win-win.” Zoro watches in amusement as Sanji seems to connect the dots. 

“You’re here too, I guess.” He tacks on coyly, though Sanji doesn’t rise to the bait.

He drops is cigarette in the ashtray, stepping into the apartment. “Baby, are you saying you want to move here, with me?” He flops onto the bed, faces inches apart.

Zoro’s heart thumps, but he powers on. “People keep begging me to go after the things I want, so I thought I’d finally take their advice. And this isn’t like last time — I’m still doing what I want, just, here.” As Sanji opens his mouth to reply, Zoro hurriedly adds, “I'm sure Miso would love to see you, too.” 

The comment makes Sanji scrunch his nose. He pushes Zoro’s shoulder. “It’s dirty to use the cat against me.” Zoro just grins.

Sanji turns onto his back, eyes on the ceiling. He takes a breath. Zoro holds his. “Okay.”

A cold breeze hits him from the balcony, letting him know just how warm he’s become in the past minute. “Yeah?”

Sanji tackles him into the sheets, pressing Zoro down and bringing their faces close. “Yeah. Let’s do it.” Sanji says into his lips.

A year later, as they’re lounging on Sanji’s couch with Miso, their couch, wearing each other’s clothes, watching some cooking show, Zoro can’t help but think things turned out alright.